The Many Deaths of Harry Potter
by neoepiphany
Summary: A collection of short tales, each one chronicling the death of our hero. Some may be funny, some poignant, some sad. Updated 59. PG for violence.
1. Loss

Author's Note:  
  
Although this is in a very different vein than my other work, I had to indulge my tragic streak a bit. This story is greatly inspired by Darkmoore's "Death of Harry Potter," which is absolutely worth a read.   
  
http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1796536  
  
I have no plans to make regular updates to this work, but I will add to it as inspiration strikes.  
  
Enjoy,  
  
Neoepiphany  
  
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I. Loss  
  
"Hermione? Where's Harry? Where's Harry, Hermione?" Remus Lupin ran into the cavern-like room. He wanted to grab her and shake her, but the gash on his arm was bleeding too much. He couldn't let it go, or he'd lose too much blood. Hermione stared, unseeing across the room. Her mouth opened and closed as though she was trying to form words, but no sound exited. She must have been cursed—no matter what she'd seen, Hermione would surely never be so shell-shocked?  
  
No matter what she had seen. Lupin felt an empty, metallic place well up in his heart. He knew what he would see if he followed her gaze. Perhaps a secret part of him had always known he would see it one day. His eyes traced the black marble flooring. It was chipped and broken in places, still smoking with the pockmarks of errant curses.  
  
He saw the glasses first. Two little circles of glass, cast thoughtlessly across the floor. They caught the light, sending two little pinpoints of brightness onto the black floor. But for some reason, the light shone red.  
  
No, it didn't shine red, he realized. It shone onto a pool of spreading blood, near invisible on the black floor in the darkness. He didn't want to see the source of that blood, but he had to look. He had to know whether this would be a night of joy, or one of profound sorrow.  
  
His eyes searched the gloom. As they adjusted, he saw—it. No longer a him. Now an it. "Oh, no," Remus whispered.   
  
He saw a mass of black hair, sticky with drying blood. He saw a pale white face staring upwards. He saw two emerald green eyes staring up at the ceiling. No, not staring. Those eyes could no longer stare. His scar looked like it had been split open. A trickle of blood ran out of it, gathering in the pool around Harry. The white skinned, red eyed form standing above the body smiled cruelly.  
  
Lupin sank to his knees. He saw the wand rise. He saw the lips form words. But in the split seconds before the green light rushed at him, only one thought filled Lupin's mind.  
  
"We've lost." 


	2. The Thief

II. The Thief  
  
Harry patted his trouser pocket, double checking that he hadn't forgotten his wallet. He had never really gotten into the hang of muggle shopping. He'd never had occasion to do it before he went to Hogwarts, and during the years he was a student and before he met Madeline, he'd dealt exclusively with the wizarding world. But, the muggle world did have its charms, Harry thought. Supermarkets were nice. They were remarkably impersonal. No one paid any attention to the other shoppers at all, particularly not the dark-haired man with the curious scar. Wallets were nice, too, he thought. Not only could you put your money in them, they held pictures of the wife and kids in case you ran into anyone you could show them to. He got into the car, and tossed a small rubber hippogriff into the backseat. Madeline had driven last. She always moved the seat up too close to the wheel.  
  
Harry had met Madeline when he was nineteen. She was all-muggle. That had been her charm. She was a pretty, intelligent young woman. A recent university graduate. He'd seen her in the supermarket the first time. He'd been struck by her charm right away. He loved the way the fluorescent lights brought out the highlights in her shiny brown hair. He'd noticed how green the cardboard cover on the frozen dinner she'd been reading made her eyes look. And he'd followed her home. He'd sat at the café on the corner near her building for hours every day, until one day she'd sat down nearby. The rest was history.  
  
It had been perfect, Harry mused. He wondered why he'd spent a year feeling so lonely before the idea had struck him to look for a muggle girl. After all, the muggles didn't know anything about Voldemort. They didn't know anything about how Harry had been such a huge celebrity. They didn't know how, in that last fateful year, the entire world had built Harry up to be some kind of super savior, and at the very last moment—  
  
A cat darted in front of the car, and Harry slammed on his brakes. The rubber hippogriff hit him in the back of the head. That belonged to Harry's younger son. Their eldest was eight now. Harry and Madeline had named him James Sirius Potter, although Madeline had taken some convincing over the Sirius part. Harry had managed to persuade her it was a good, solid wizarding name. James was definitely magical. Last year, Madeline had yelled at him for drawing on his bedroom wallpaper with purple marker, only to turn around and find that all the ink had fallen off the walls in great curls like potato peels. Their younger son was only four. They had named him Norton Paul after an uncle of Madeline's who had choked to death while trying to perform a magic trick involving a pair of figs and a plastic building block for Maddy's amusement. So far he hadn't shown any signs of being magical, but he was young yet. There was plenty of time. They were expecting a third child in just over a month. Their muggle doctor assured them it would be a girl. They had agreed to call her Elizabeth Lily.  
  
At the last moment, Harry decided to go visit Madeline at work. She was a loan officer at the village bank. Harry was very proud of her. Although his inheritance probably would have supported them comfortably, Madeline enjoyed her job. She jokingly called Harry her "house husband." He didn't mind. It was easy to keep the house clean by magic, and he had plenty of time to play with his sons and pursue his own interests. He lived a fairly solitary life, although he still kept in touch with Hermione via owl. Hedwig had, of course, passed on a few years back, but he could always send return messages with Hermione's owl, Melpomene.   
  
He also read the Daily Prophet cover-to-cover. He mostly liked to keep up with the quidditch scores. The one thing he missed most from the wizarding world was quidditch. Still, it was better to be out of it. After everything had settled down after the war, Harry had suddenly felt like such an outsider. After spending his whole life as The Boy Who Lived, after having the weight of being the one who must finally destroy Voldemort placed on his shoulders, at the very end—  
  
He shook his head. Well, he couldn't be expected to hang around after that. He'd been a laughingstock. Good riddance to it all, he thought. He was happy with his little life. With his wife and his children. Of course, someday soon, James was going to get his Hogwarts letter, and Harry would have to explain.  
  
"James," he'd say, "I need to tell you something important. When you get to Hogwarts, you might find that a few people know your father well, and you might get teased a bit."  
  
"Why, Dad?" James would say.  
  
"Well, you see son, when I was a boy at Hogwarts, there was a very evil wizard on the loose. His name was Voldemort. He's the one who murdered your Grandfather James and Grandmother Lily."  
  
"Did you fight him, Dad?" James would say, wonder in his eyes.  
  
"Yes, son. Six times. Everyone thought I would be the one to defeat him. They called me The Boy who Lived. They built me up as some kind of chosen one."  
  
"Did you beat him, Dad?"  
  
"Er," Harry would say. "Actually, no. In the end, it turned out we'd all been wrong. I faced down Voldemort and nearly got killed. Thank goodness the real chosen one was there. A friend of mine, in fact. A boy called Neville Longbottom. Yes, if old Neville hadn't been there, I'm afraid your old Dad would have been a goner for sure."  
  
And then James would look at him in disgust, and probably go up to his room and read a book or something.  
  
Harry sighed. Still, there were years until he had to have that conversation. And Neville was doing well. The youngest Minister of Magic in history had had his picture in the Prophet that very morning, smiling happily as he cut the ribbon on the new Longbottom Center for Serious Spell Damage at St. Mungo's. He was proud of Neville, of course. He wished him nothing but the best. Neville had tried to present Harry with the Order of Merlin last year, but Harry had refused.  
  
Harry pulled up outside Madeline's bank. He just wanted to ask her if she wanted anything special before he did the shopping. He thought he might make her some lamb chops for dinner, but only if her stomach had settled down. He walked past the particularly beaten up old Ford Anglia parked in front of the bank, its motor still running. It certainly conjured up memories. Poor old Ron. If only he hadn't tried to save Harry, he might have lived. Harry visited his grave once a year. It always had fresh flowers, and generally, a sampling of high-quality magical joke items as well. Harry knew the Weasleys didn't blame him for Ron's death, but he couldn't help thinking that if only he hadn't tried so hard to be the Boy Who Lived, his best friend might have survived.  
  
Harry walked into the bank. It was awfully quiet for this time of day. Usually, there was a buzz of activity around lunch time, what with all the business people stopping in on their lunch breaks. Harry thought initially that it was empty, but he realized that it was, in fact, full of people. For some strange reason, they were all lying face-down on the ground.  
  
Harry heard a loud bang, and then he must have blacked out. The next thing he knew, Madeline was leaning over him. She was crying. Harry couldn't understand why.  
  
"Maddy," he said. It was hard to speak for some reason.  
  
"No, Harry. Don't say anything," she said. "You're going to be all right. The ambulance is nearly here."  
  
Harry reached out a hand and patted Madeline's round belly. He was having trouble concentrating. His mind felt like it was full of gelatin. He noted, in a disinterested way, that he couldn't feel his legs.   
  
He realized that a crowd was standing over them, grave faced and serious. Harry's eyes rolled over the crowd of strangers in their pressed business suits. Strangers. All strangers.  
  
He looked back to Madeline, and suddenly realized there were four figures standing behind her. There was a woman with long auburn hair. There were two dark-haired men, one of whom looked a lot like Harry. Beside the men stood a red-haired boy in his late teens. A grin flashed across his freckled face.  
  
"Stay with me Harry," Madeline said urgently. She leaned close and whispered in his ear. "You stay with me, Harry. I can't raise three little wizards without you."  
  
But Harry's godfather was waving at him. Harry smiled. Harry's father beckoned to him.  
  
Harry smiled at his beautiful wife. "I love you Maddy," he said.  
  
"Stay with me, Harry," she pleaded.  
  
"And I love the kids," he said.  
  
And then he joined his family. 


	3. Hero

III. The Daily Prophet

**Item**: Article from _the Daily Prophet_, page 1, 2 August 1998.

            "**Harry Potter Dead at 18**

**            The Wizarding World mourns the loss of its greatest Hero**

            The body of Harry James Potter, most famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Voldemort last spring, was found by two muggle hikers in the countryside near Hogsmeade late last night.  The remains were positively identified by Hogwarts Headmaster and Potter's friend, Albus Dumbledore.  Ministry of Magic officials located the remnants of Potter's Firebolt Racing broom in a nearby tree.

            While the exact circumstances leading to Potter's death remain unclear, one ministry official who asked to remain unnamed said that the incident looked like an accident.  However, another anonymous official, noting Potter's decline into depression after his battle with Voldemort, suggested that Potter may have taken his own life.  The Ministry has launched a massive investigation into the events leading to Potter's tragic demise."

**Item**: Notice from _the Daily Prophet_, page 1, 3 August 1998.

            **"Harry Potter's Funeral Date Set**

Harry Potter's friends and family have announced that his funeral will be held on August 6th at St. Gladys's Cathedral in Hogsmeade.  Services will begin at 2pm and will be followed by a dinner in the Great Hall of Hogwarts school.  Harry Potter will be available for viewing at St. Gladys's all day August 5th.

            Potter is predeceased by his parents, James and Lily Potter, and his godfather, Sirius Black."

**Item**: Article from _the Daily Prophet_, page 3, 12 August 1998.

            **"Potter Death ruled an Accident**

In a press conference called earlier today, Minister of Magic Arthur Weasley officially stated that Harry Potter's death was an accident.

            'It appears that Harry was flying alone at night and collided with an object in the air,' Weasley said.  'I knew Harry well, and this tragedy is one none of us could have prepared for.  He proved himself to be a formidable wizard in the battle last spring.  That his life should be so senselessly claimed in this way is supremely unexpected.'

Potter's funeral last week was attended by over two hundred witches and wizards from around the world."

**Item**: Article from _the Daily Prophet_, page 6, 24 April 1999.

            **"Ministry of Magic Unveils Statue to the Boy Who Lived**

In a gala reception Friday night, the Minister of Magic unveiled the long-anticipated statue of Harry Potter, commissioned last fall to commemorate the life of the boy who ended the war against the dark wizard Voldemort.  Potter passed away in a brooming accident last summer.  The unveiling was attended by a variety of wizarding celebrities, as well as a few of Potter's friends from his time at Hogwarts.

            The statue, entitled, "Tribute to a Hero," will be on display at Hogwarts through June of 2004, when the last class of students to have studied with Potter will leave the school.  On July 31, 2004, the statue will be officially placed in its permanent home in the Ministry of Magic.

            Photographs of the fashions and celebrities present at the unveiling can be found on our Society page."

**Item**: Article from _the Daily Prophet,_ page 4, 23 May 2002.

            **"Ministry of Magic names July 31st 'Harry Potter Day'**

Minister of Magic Arthur Weasley announced today that the Ministry had unanimously decided that July 31st shall be known from now on as Harry Potter Day, a tribute to the heroic boy who defeated the dark wizard Voldemort.  Potter, who died in a tragic accident in 1998, is widely regarded as one of the most powerful wizards of modern times.

            Various festivities to commemorate Harry Potter Day are already in the works.  The Department of Magical Games and Sports has announced plans to begin the Hero Cup, a championship game to be played on July 31st.  Potter played seeker for Gryffindor during his time at Hogwarts, serving as team captain in his seventh year.  A spokesperson for Honeydukes has announced that a new chocolate frog card featuring Potter will be released on the first Harry Potter Day.  Honeydukes will be giving a free chocolate frog to all children on July 31st.  

The mayor of Hogsmeade has announced plans for a carnival to celebrate the new holiday.  While the schedule of events has not yet been decided in its entirety, the Hogsmeade Dramatic Society has announced it will be premiering its play, 'Harry Potter and the Final Battle.'  On a related note, the long anticipated musical 'Hero!: The story of Harry Potter' will premiere at the Enchantment Theater in London this Friday.  The part of Harry Potter will be played by rising star of the Wizarding Wireless Network, Alex Morphic."

**Item**: Letter addressed to Ronald Weasley, dated 31 July 1998.

            "Dear Ron,

            I'm sorry it had to be like this.  I just can't live another year this way.  I can still feel the blood on my hands.  I don't feel like a hero.  I feel like a murderer.  Tell everyone I'm sorry.

            Harry."


	4. Snape

IV. Snape  
  
With their N.E.W.T.s only days away, the potions class had become unbearable. Even Hermione was close to cracking under the strain. She stirred her cauldron woodenly, a hysterical half-grin on her face. Ron seemed past caring; his own potion had turned into a great blue mass with the consistency and smell of week-old cottage cheese. Ron, with an oblivious look of joy, kept adding ingredients to the belching cauldron. Harry's own potion looked rather like Hermione's. Of course, he'd been practicing. Anything to keep from giving Snape an excuse to berate him. Everyone knew that he always brought out the Elixir of Power a few days before the N.E.W.T.s because it was the most difficult potion known to wizardkind.  
  
"You may now come and collect the Sphinx's blood," Snape said. "Remember—do not test your potion until after the blood is added."  
  
The three of them got in line to collect their potion. Ron yawned and stretched. "Look on the bright side," he said, taking in Harry and Hermione's tired faces. "In just a few weeks classes will be over once and for all. No more—well, know more you-know-who." He jerked his head toward Snape.  
  
"No," Hermione said, caustic sarcasm dripping from her voice. "There won't be anything difficult to do after our N.E.W.T.s. Just auror training. Oh, yes, and actually fighting Death Eaters. That's all."  
  
"You'd think the Head Girl would be able to take a little stress in stride," Ron said.  
  
"Like you, you mean? Yes, we've all heard about your revolutionary approach to studying. You're only smart enough to get certain marks anyway, so why bother working your tail off for no good reason." Hermione made a little noise of annoyance. "Why should you be happy when the rest of us are so miserable?"  
  
The last student in front of her moved aside, and Snape handed Hermione a small vial full of crystal-clear fluid. She took it and stomped back to her seat.  
  
"Don't mind her," Ron said to Harry. "She'll cheer up after Friday."  
  
"Oh yes," Harry said, trying not to duplicate Hermione's noise of annoyance. "The 'special date' you have planned. You've mentioned it."  
  
Ron winked, collected his bottle, and returned to his desk.  
  
Snape saw Harry and gave him a greasy little smirk. "Ah, Potter," he said. He held out Harry's bottle. Harry reached out to take it, but Snape refused to let go. "Do be careful, Potter. I'd hate for you to ruin your last potion of the term."   
  
Harry glared at Snape. "Don't worry," he said, jerking the bottle out of his hand.  
  
The class seemed to take forever. Harry added his bottle of Sphinx's blood, stirred, and allowed his cauldron to simmer for ten minutes, as instructed.  
  
"You may now test your potions," Snape said. "If you have brewed them correctly, you will begin to feel stronger within a few moments. You should line up in front of this hammer and bell so I can test your level of increased strength."  
  
Harry ladled a bit of his potion into a glass, and drank it down. It tasted pleasantly like cinnamon and nutmeg. It made him think of cool winter nights.  
  
"I feel stronger already," Ron said. "Watch this." He picked up a thick wooden spoon, and tried to crush it in his fist. The spoon remained stubbornly uncrushed, although Ron's face turned slightly pink.  
  
"My hero," Hermione said, shaking her head. "The potion won't have kicked in yet. You ought to know that."  
  
"How about you, Harry?" Ron said, turning. "Feel strong enough to beat Ravenclaw tomorrow?"  
  
Actually, Harry thought, he felt weaker. "I feel kind of tired," he said, slumping backward in his seat.  
  
"Harry—" Hermione said. "You don't look so good."  
  
"Are you okay, mate?" Ron said, concern lining his face.  
  
"I—I dunno," Harry said. It was strange. His head felt heavy. He'd never thought it was heavy before. He let it sink onto the table.  
  
"Professor! Professor!" Hermione shouted.  
  
Through his blurring vision, Harry caught sight of Professor Snape sweeping toward them like a great, black, bat. He bent low over Harry. Harry thought for a moment that Snape was checking his pulse, but then he heard a whisper in his ear.  
  
"You have been a thorn in my side for seven years, Potter," he whispered, his voice so low that no one else would have been able to hear it. "All this time, I've had to pretend to have left my master's service. I've had to keep you alive until the Dark Lord was finished with you. And now, at last, I have proven my allegiance to him. I have gotten rid of the last remaining obstacle in his path to greatness. Goodbye, Harry Potter."  
  
Snape straightened up, and lifted the glass vial that had contained Harry's Sphinx blood. Only Harry could have seen Snape replace the empty bottle—which he now realized must have contained only water—with a full one.  
  
"The fool!" Snape said urgently. "He forgot to add his Sphinx blood! Quick—Malfoy, run for Madame Pomfrey!" Hermione let out a small shriek. Harry wanted desperately to turn his head, to tell her what Snape had said, but his body remained firmly stuck. He could not move. He could feel the last ounces of his strength draining away.  
  
With a terrible pang, Harry realized that the last thing he would see in this life would be Snape's oily smirk. His vision dimmed, and he felt himself pulling away, as though being pulled out of his body. On the edge of his hearing, he was aware of voices, although they sounded far away now.  
  
"What's happening?" Ron shouted.  
  
"Oh, Ron," Hermione wailed. "Everyone knows that the sphinx blood is the only thing that stops the elixir of strength from being a terrible poison!" 


	5. The Adventure Park

V. The Amusement Park  
  
"You two have fun," Hermione said, giving Ron a small kiss on the cheek. "Luna and I will just take the kids for ice cream. Meet us at the MagiCream when you're done."  
  
"See you in a bit, then," Harry said, smiling at his wife, and patting his daughter's long, blond hair.  
  
It was a rather bizarre tradition, but one that Harry and Ron had grown to enjoy. It was funny when you thought about it, Harry thought. You could actually tell the muggles all about the existence of the magical world, you could introduce yourself to them, you could even actually perform magic for them, and they'd go out of their way to convince themselves it was all fiction. Of course, Harry hadn't intended to expose the wizarding world like he had. In the beginning, it had been a terrible mess, and he'd been in a lot of trouble with the Ministry. Now, however, they'd actually given him a commendation. Who would ever believe in something that had been revealed in a series of children's books?  
  
Harry hadn't actually intended to tell the muggle woman his story. To tell the truth, he'd been a bit drunk. That was back before Harry Junior was born, when he and Luna had been going through a rough patch. He'd seen the pretty muggle woman in a bar, and had tried to impress her by telling her he was the one who'd overcome the Dark Wizard Voldemort. He'd shown her his scar, even. Of course, she'd had no idea who Voldemort was, and the next thing he knew he'd told her the whole story and signed some kind of contract about royalties and percentages.  
  
The books had done famously, of course. The muggle woman had taken some liberties with the story, of course (him and Cho Chang? Cho only wished!), and Harry thought his literary self to be a bit dim-witted sometimes, but overall, it had been excellent. Then came all the movies, the onslaught of toys, the video games, the Harry Potter clothing line, the 'Hogwarts Stories' television series, and finally, the "Harry Potter Adventure!" parks. He and Ron had brought their families here every year since the first one was built. It was perhaps a bit narcissistic, Harry conceded. He blushed every time they walked past the giant inflatable Harry that stood over the entrance.  
  
They went on the rides in an order that bordered on ritual. First thing, it was the Basilisk, a giant rollercoaster made to look like a snake with glowing yellow eyes that ran along tracks made to look like pipes. Harry Junior always flicked spitballs at the giant plastic Tom Riddle near the end of the ride. Then they went on the Magical Carousel, where Ron and Hermione's daughter Marianne always cried if she didn't get to sit on the hippogriff. Then they got snacks from The Potion Parlor, a little snack-shop that sold funnel cakes and chips in black plastic cauldrons. Then came the Philosopher's Stone Hunt (a kind of ride through giant animatronic imitations of the obstacles they'd overcome to find the stone), Rubeus Hagrid's Giant Bash!, and Harry Junior's favorite, the Quidditch Pitch. By then they were hot, so it was off to the Triwizard Adventure, where the coaster took them through imitations of the Triwizard cup obstacles, including a nice, big splash into an artificial lake. Then it was lunch at an imitation Leaky Cauldron, some games and souvenir buying on 'Diagon Alley', and then Harry and Ron's favorite: The Death Eaters' Cave.  
  
The Death Eaters' Cave was the Harry Potter Adventure!'s answer to a haunted house. They had even helped to design it. The muggle woman had brought them in as consultants to describe the appearance of the various Death Eaters so that it could be as realistically scary as possible. Unfortunately, Marianne invariable screamed bloody murder whenever they rode it, and Harry Junior thought it was boring, so Harry and Ron always went alone.  
  
They strapped themselves into the front car, designed to look old and rickety. They had VIP passes, so it was never any trouble getting the front car if they wanted it. Harry and Ron grinned. This was the best.  
  
The car set off with a moan. It passed through a pair of giant wooden doors, a sign above them saying "Abandon All Hope!" The group of teenage muggles behind them tittered. The first part of the ride was a model Azkaban. Air conditioners kept it chilly year-round, and loudspeakers hidden behind Styrofoam rocks played the sounds of distant screams, crazy mumbling, and angry railing against the Ministry. As dementors swooped around the car, the muggles behind them screamed. Harry laughed as Ron waved at a dementor. The next was an imitation of Malfoy manor, where horrible torture chambers and scary magical devices surrounded them. Death Eaters dropped down around the car, setting off more screams from the muggles and laughter from Harry and Ron.  
  
Eerie music began to play as the car passed into the next room. This one was a model of the graveyard where Voldemort had risen again. A bright green light flashed when you first entered the room. An animatronic body lay on the ground (Harry always averted his gaze). Then, the voice of Voldemort giving orders to Wormtail was played out of a loudspeaker, and lights flared on a model of Harry, tied to the tombstone. More lights flared, and an animatronic Wormtail cut off its own hand to the accompaniment of a terrific scream. Plastic Death Eaters, complete with hoods, popped up out of the ground, as though they had apparated there, and a poof of smoke went off, lighting up a giant Dark Mark. It was made of neon lights, of course, but still a nice effect.  
  
This was the part Harry and Ron were most proud of. After the Dark Mark flared, two great doors opened, and you were faced with a giant model of Voldemort's head, biting down on the track. The cart raced toward it, and its jaws opened enough to admit the guests, but, just as you passed below it, the car froze, and, with the sound of high, cold laughter playing in the background, the jaws swept downward as though about to bite the car. Invariably, the muggles were terrified, screaming and shaking.  
  
Harry listened to the titters and "aah"s of appreciation behind him as they approached the head. Its jaws opened, and a few muggles let out grateful shrieks. Then, with the choreographed squeal and lurch, the car jerked to a halt under Voldemort's pointed teeth.  
  
There was a creak above them. The music began to crescendo menacingly.  
  
"Come on!" yelled a muggle boy behind Harry.  
  
"What is it, broken?" yelled another.  
  
"It's part of the ride," a girl shouted.  
  
Harry and Ron smiled.  
  
"Hurry up!" shouted one of the muggle boys. He tossed something up into the metal work. It made a loud "ping!" and a shower of sparks fell over the front of the car.  
  
"HEY!" yelled Ron over the music. "Knock it off!"  
  
But his shout was lost as more muggles cheered and began to throw things at the giant teeth.  
  
"We aren't afraid of you, Voldie!" yelled a girl.  
  
"Yeah! Take that, snake-eyes!" shouted a boy. A barrage of garbage and small items smashed into the electronics above them.  
  
The teeth began their downward swoop, sending off the usual appreciative shrieks of terror. One last muggle tossed an empty drinks can at the giant, leering face of Voldemort. It struck a lever somewhere. A great creak filled the room.  
  
The muggles fell silent. "Uh-oh," Ron murmured.  
  
The creak echoed again. The teeth had finished their downward journey, but the car hadn't begun to move again. Harry looked upward. The teeth were shaking slightly back and forth. Then, they began to fall.  
  
Harry looked at Ron. He had just enough time to say, "Now this is what I call ironic," before the giant, robotic Lord Voldemort bit them both in half. 


	6. Obituary

VI. Obituary  
  
"Harry James Potter.  
  
The wizarding world mourns the loss of Harry James Potter, who passed away in his sleep last night at the age of 127. Potter, most famous for his brilliant defeat of the Dark Wizard Voldemort in 1997, went on to lead the Chudley Cannons to their first winning streak in almost a century. In 2035, he became one of the most popular Ministers of Magic in history, a position he resigned in 2050. He made great strides for magical tolerance and unity, creating the International Wizarding Alliance, the Werewolf Rights Act, and the Commission for House Elf equality. Until 2075, he held the post of Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He spent his retirement living with his wife and children in his family home.  
  
Potter's family has announced that his tomb shall bear simply his name, and a quotation from his famous speech before the first meeting of the Alliance. 'In the darkest of days, it is never enough to simply wait for the night to pass. We must press ever onward, seeking the light cast by those who have gone before us.'  
  
Harry Potter is predeceased by his parents, Lily and James Potter, his godfather, Sirius Black, his wife, Virginia Potter, and his daughter, Catherine Marie Potter. He leaves behind 11 children, 37 grandchildren, and 52 great-grandchildren. The family asks that memorials be made in the form of donations to St. Mungo's hospital for magical maladies." 


	7. Shotgun

VII. Shotgun

Harry and Ginny exchanged a nervous glance. It was getting late. In a few minutes, everyone would want to go to bed. _It's now or never_, Harry thought to himself. Ginny must have been thinking along the same lines, because she gave him a little nod.

Harry cleared his throat. "Er, Mrs. Weasley? Mr. Weasley?"

Mr. Weasley looked up from his book, a paperback novel about the lives of muggles. Mrs. Weasley, who had been showing Hermione how to knit a cable stitch, lowered her needles. Hermione and Ron leaned back on the sofa beside her.

"We have something to tell you, Mum and Dad," Ginny said. She took Harry's hand behind her robes.

"Oh?" said Mrs. Weasley, looking at Ginny in bewilderment. "It isn't about that broken cauldron from yesterday, is it? Because I already made the twins buy a new one, and if it was you two—"

"Er, no, it's nothing like that," Harry said. He swallowed hard. He felt like he was going to choke on his own adam's apple. "It's—er—well, you see—"

"We're getting married," Ginny said.

For a moment, a stunned silence filled the room. Hermione's eyes widened. Ron's jaw dropped. Mr. Weasley began to blink furiously.

Mrs. Weasley jumped off the sofa. "Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness!" she shouted, throwing her arms around them in a bone-crushing hug. "This is the happiest day of my life! I've always thought of you as my son, Harry, and now you really will be!"

"Mum," Ginny sputtered, "I can't breathe."

"Sorry, Ginny, dear. I'm just so happy!" she wiped a tear from her eyes. "I'm so proud of you two!"

"Congratulations, mate," Ron said, shaking Harry's hand. He looked utterly shocked.

"Thanks," Harry said sheepishly.

Mr. Weasley pumped Harry's hand up and down. "Welcome to the family, Harry! Welcome!"

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley," Harry said. He could feel a blush creeping up his neck.

"We'll have to start planning the wedding," Mrs. Weasley said, a happy glow all over her face. "There's so much to do! And we only just finished with Bill's wedding. Well, there's plenty of time. You'll want to wait until June, until you finish school, Ginny, of course—"

"Actually," Ginny said, "we were thinking of having the wedding a little sooner."

"What? Sooner? How much sooner?" Mrs. Weasley said. "Like during your holidays?"

"Er," Harry said. "We were thinking of maybe, er, next week."

The room fell silent again. Everyone was staring at the two of them with surprise. Harry definitely felt that blush creeping into his hairline.

"That soon?" Mr. Weasley said. "That's—that's much too soon. We'll never be ready in time. I understand that you're eager, but there's plenty of time."

"Actually," Ginny said, "there isn't. I'm pregnant."

Another silence. This time, the looks of shock were not happy ones. Harry looked at his shoes. He wanted nothing in the world more than to leave that room. He'd rather face Voldemort again than be facing Mrs. Weasley right now.

"You're WHAT?" Mrs. Weasley said.

"You did WHAT to my sister?" Ron shouted.

"Oh, my," Hermione said, her hand over her mouth.

Harry risked a look up. Mr. Weasley's face was turning violet.

"I'll—I'll—" he sputtered.

"Dad," Ginny said, "are you okay?"

"I'll—I'll—" Mr. Weasley sputtered again.

"Mr. Weasley?" Hermione said.

"I'LL KILL HIM!" Mr. Weasley shouted, launching himself at Harry. Harry felt Mr. Weasley's hands close around his throat. Harry fell backward under the weight, onto the armchair behind him. His vision was filled with little flashes of light.

"ARTHUR! ARTHUR, NO! GET OFF HIM!"

Harry gasped for breath, feeling as though his windpipe had been half-crushed. He felt someone pull Mr. Weasley away. He shook his head, trying to clear the rush of blood that filled his vision.

"You can't kill, Harry, Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley was saying.

"That's right!" Ginny said. Harry felt her pat his head.

"Because that's MY job!" Mrs. Weasley shouted.

This time, the armchair fell backward. The last thing Harry remembered before he blacked out, was hearing Hermione and Ginny shouting "Mrs. Weasley! Let him go! He's turning blue!"

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My answer to all those Harry-gets-Ginny-Pregnant Fics. Hee hee hee.


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